How to Swim With Sharks
by Kouya-kun
Summary: Dealing with a traumatic event, Alfred begins to feel the pressure of holding together crumbling relationships with family and friends on top of keeping himself from falling apart in the process. With his life dramatically altered, though, his perceptions change, and suddenly the people he once hated don't seem so bad anymore... Rewrite of "Orange and Black"/RusAme/warnings indside
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Wow so I'm finally getting this up everyone! I have no idea how long it's been since I made the announcement about this, but I know you all have waited more than enough for this. I'm happy to see that most of you guys wanted to read this re-write of my much earlier fic, Orange and Black. Hopefully, that's still the case.

Now before anything, I'd like to restate all warnings that I gave in the AN at the end of O&B plus some:

**Warnings: This fanfiction will contain extremely difficult and possibly triggering themes, such as continuos mentions of death of a loved one, depression, implications of eating disorders, graphic descriptions of self-harm, cheating, and dysfunctional**** relationships with family members.**

**If you don't want to read about any of this, do not read this fanfiction.**

Also, there will definitely be UsUk in the beginning, but this relationship is fundamental to the events that will take place in this story. The main pairing, however, will still be RusAme, and we'll get some Francis and Arthur action as well. For those of you who are reading this after O&B, the transition between these relationships will be pretty much exactly the same.

With that covered, I'd like to point out the obvious that this will be astronomically different from the original story, and hopefully better. I'm trying a new format and have developed my writing style and have pledged to be as thorough as I can be with proof-reading (one of the reasons this is late).

Alright enough said, I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

**June 1, 4:00 PM**

They sat together on the curbside, silent after the service. It wasn't a big service with dozens of people making well thought-out speeches and a choir in the back. It wasn't a small one with only immediate family and friends coming to quietly mourn the loss, either. It was just a service, Alfred thought, and while contemplating what anything different might have been like brought him no particular sense of disappointment, he was left with dull weight in his body that kept him seated there, looking past the parking lot with dull eyes. Arthur sat next to him, respectfully keeping quiet and responding for him when occasionally a family friend would say goodbye and express condolences as they passed the two on their way out. Alfred wished he could express how much he appreciated the other's simple comfort, but he didn't have the words or the energy right now. Instead, they sat together on the hot pavement, watching as one by one the guests left the lot, the two of them just taking comfort in the presence of each other.

It was Alfred's father. It hadn't been more than a week since summer break started, and not more than a week since Alfred's first-day-of-summer wake-up call was his mother coming into his room at seven in the morning to announce his dad had finally passed away. That was a bad day.

He knew it was coming. Hell, Alfred almost wished it had happened sooner. Don't get him wrong, it's not like he wanted his father to die, far from it. He just didn't want to see him fade away to a breathing corpse in the living room. Unfortunately, with a diagnosis like Leukemia, that was unavoidable. Needless to say, watching someone so close to them wither away like that does things to a kid. Bad things. And Alfred didn't want to think about it.

Moving his gaze from the scorching black top to the dusty blue sky, Alfred thought about what would happen next. There was still a full summer ahead of him, and then he and his friends started their junior year. Sitting there with his thoughts, a wave of anxiety pushed and pulled at his core. What would his life be like now? That question gnawed at his mind for the rest of the day. He was grateful for Arthur being there. He was grateful that all of his friends were there, actually. If it hadn't been for Arthur, Francis, Kiku, and even Yao, who he had stopped considering a close friend for a while now, Alfred was sure that he would have had to leave in the middle of it. But Arthur, who was doing a better job at handling him than his own mother, was the real distraction, and Alfred knew he was the only one could tell he wasn't all there anymore.

They spent the rest of the day and night together. It felt strange, like they were forgetting something. For a good while now, staying the night together meant something much different – much more – than hanging out, talking, eating, and playing card games until one in the morning. It was different, but Alfred didn't feel up to anything else. It would just feel wrong. Arthur left late the next morning, offering Alfred a kiss goodbye and a few more words of condolences, reminding him that the phone line was open at any time.

* * *

Alfred didn't pick up the phone for three weeks.

After the service, it took a little less than one more week for their hospice agent to drop by the house to present the urn with his father's ashes. The urn wasn't anything special, just a solid black granite object that would be fated to sit atop the living room coffee table from now on. Alfred's mother insisted that it was a modest memorial to honor his father and keep him in their hearts, but Alfred thought she was just trying to use anything she could get her hands on to fill the empty space; not wanting to let go. While she never confirmed it with words, her actions spoke loud enough. That summer she adopted two dogs and a cat, despite being allergic to both. The new animals were a welcomed addition, though, and as the days and weeks passed, Alfred, who had never shown an interest in pets before, quickly became fond of them to the surprise of his mother, and his brother, Matthew.

Matthew. Alfred wasn't sure what their relationship was anymore. He supposed that his brother had always been closer to his mom, while Alfred preferred the company of their dad most of the time, but ever since they'd received the first diagnosis, something happened. The changes came slowly at first. Either Matthew didn't notice, or didn't care. But a wedge was driven between them, along with their mother. It really came down to the differences in how they dealt with everything that was happening. While the rest of his family stayed optimistic and tried to hold onto hope, Alfred knew from the beginning that this cancer would take his father away from him soon. Sure enough, his dad's health deteriorated faster than anyone expected, and within less than a year, he was gone. In that time, Matthew had taken to being with their mother, talking about feelings and what not. Alfred just couldn't do that, though. He had an unusually hard time with exposing himself like that to others, especially his family. It didn't make sense, he knew, but he didn't think about it too much; he was confused enough as it was, and he didn't need one more thing to wonder about. In the long run, simply, all of this led to a slow kind of isolation. Up until recently, he had still talked with his friends constantly at school, still watched T.V. with his family and played video games with Matthew, and still spent a lot of his time texting Arthur. But slowly and quickly at the same time, he began to get tired of doing it all, and after a few months, ten minutes on the phone was enough to tire him. Now that his dad had died…it was even worse.

The worst part about it was Alfred never even noticed any of this until one night, he fell apart.

* * *

**June 22**

They had just finished cleaning up after dinner, and while Matthew was distracted with helping their mother put the rinsed dishes in the washer, Alfred made his move to move back into his room for the rest of the night. The biggest dog, a golden retriever named Hero, jumped off of the couch to follow him into the back. Alfred didn't want to deal with his family for a while, and hadn't wanted to the whole day. For the past week his bedroom was where his family could find him. If they ever needed him, he'd always be in there no matter what, considering he rarely came out unprompted. It was good for him, he thought. Hero was the only company he really wanted anyway. People were painful, but his dog…Hero never questioned him, never pestered him, was never trying to squeeze information out of him, he just flopped down next to him when Alfred was alone and let him relax with the familiar warm weight that pressed against his side, the only comfort Alfred could appreciate right now. That's how he'd felt for a while now. Animals were good. People were a drag.

He never bothered to turn on the lights in his room anymore. Alfred felt no reason to waste electricity on something useless like that, seeing as he never did more than lay in his bed in silence, immerse himself in the fantastical world of the internet (accessed conveniently through his phone), or sleep. Tonight, the silence of his dark room beckoned Alfred to think, to ask the questions that were forming in the empty space. When was the last time he talked to Matthew about something other than the weather or the cleanliness of the house? Weeks, probably. Was his family worried about him? His friends? Arthur? What was happening outside of his house? Hell, he didn't even know what day it was anymore. The more he asked himself these simple questions, a bigger one pushed at his mind: Did he care? He should say yes. A normal person would say yes. But right now, he really didn't. The realization didn't shock him like when he arrived at school and realized he'd forgotten homework at home. It simply soaked into him, his body slowly becoming saturated with uneasiness of guilt and worry. Was this normal? Was something wrong with him for not caring? Alfred couldn't answer any of these on his own, and that stressed him.

Instinctively he reached for his phone that had been tossed onto the top of one of his pillows. As he turned it on and typed in the familiar numbers, he vaguely noticed that it was late, about eleven at night. Time seemed to pass at unpredictable paces recently, so the sudden jump didn't throw him off any more than if he had evidently been sitting there for only five minutes. It was all the same.

Every time the phone rung without being followed by a click and familiar, "Hello?", Alfred's heart sunk a little more. He knew Arthur wasn't going to pick up this late, but when the automated message played in his ear, he felt hurt. Alfred tried a few more times in vain before giving up and trying someone else. Kiku would pick up, wouldn't he? Alfred never learned the answer; apparently in the past few weeks the Japanese boy had gotten a new phone and the old number was no longer in service. After trying a few more of friends, Alfred called it quits and tossed the phone aside where it would probably end up lost among the thick folds of his covers. A weight was beginning to press down on him, and only then did Alfred realize how alone he was right now. His room was cold and still, empty except for him and his dog. From where he sat, it was easy to believe that there wasn't a world outside of these walls. But when he moved his gaze to out the only window that still had its blinds pulled up, he could see the street and the houses around them, some just black shapes in the night, others standing out with warm, soft glows of light seeping out from the inside. Even further in the distance he could see over the roofs of the neighborhood, past the suburbs and to the start of the city, where it was still radiating with light and life and movement. Even from here, inside his bedroom, Alfred didn't have to strain his ears too much to hear the constant murmur of traffic. When he took a moment like this to remember that the world was still turning, a strange feeling came over him. It was like he was stuck behind a wall of glass, watching time passing on planet earth, and he could see everyone living out their life, making decisions, and moving forward. But he wasn't a part of it, any of it, any whether or not he was there didn't make a difference. He was stuck, and it scared him. Alfred wasn't sure what to do about this.

After a small debate with himself, he got off the bed and left his bedroom. The hallway was dark, much like his room, and seeing that there was no glow of light from around the corner that led to the living room and kitchen, he assumed the rest of the house was unlit as well; no one else was awake. Hero had climbed down from his perch on the covers and was now standing behind Alfred curiously sniffing his hand and looking around, tail wagging contentedly. With a hard swallow, Alfred turned around and led the two of them back to his room where he closed the door, turned on the fan for white noise, and climbed under the covers, hoping he'd be able to sleep this bad feeling off.

Sleep didn't come easily that night for Alfred, though. He tossed and turned under the covers, unable to find a position that could lull him to sleep, and at one point his frustration became slightly violent, and with a good flick of his arm under the covers, Alfred accidentally hit his phone, launching it onto the floor with a loud thud, a sudden bright light escaping from under the face of the phone, lighting the floor and the space around it. Groaning in more frustration and desperation, he flung the covers off without much care so he could pick his phone off the floor and put it away.

He noticed that on the screen his messaging inbox was lit up on display. Alfred sighed as he scrolled down, bored and curious, viewing the different conversations until he reached the bottom, where an old message glared at him through the bright screen. The three letters that made up the contact name, "DAD" seemed to mock him. A jolt of pain was felt in Alfred's heart as he read that name, and he scrambled to turn his phone off immediately. But he had seen it, and while he really didn't want to see it anymore, he really did. Hesitantly, he turned the phone back on, and selecting the unopened conversation, he began to read what his father's last messages were.

_Feb 27, 3:36 PM: "it's3.30p & just leaving work. I'll b there inabout 20 min. have phone on so i can call when i get there."_

_Mar 20, 3:39 PM: "I'm in Library parking...about 3rd car from your left 1st (front) row as you come from library."_

_Mar 25, 8:09 AM: "The 2 liter bottle is in office one right where shelves are...next to bottom shelf. Dad"_

Alfred remembered the day the last one was sent. His English class was having a party that day and he'd forgotten the soda he had signed up to bring on his way out of the house. He never did say thank you for that. He never said thank you to anything. Alfred couldn't believe he had spent the last sixteen years being so ungrateful for anything his father did. At the time, it never seemed like much. It was just what he expected. But looking back now those years seemed like a dream, a fantasy, something he'd read and memorized, but couldn't grasp that it was real. Things like laughing at something rather unintelligent his dad said; sitting in the driveway for an hour after being brought home just to listen to his dad explain concepts and share experiences in unnecessary detail, but in such passion that Alfred didn't mind when he got off topic or went on for so long that the air inside the car cooled; going to his mom for help on math homework, just to end in an argument over how it should be done and leaving to find his dad instead, who would undoubtedly try to solve the problems in the hardest way possible because that was just how his mind worked; driving to school almost every morning together, not saying a word, but listening to songs off of his dad's iPod, which they both knew were only on there because Alfred liked them; when Alfred was nine and his pet tarantula began to molt and he cried because he thought it was dead, his dad stayed up until midnight with him trying his best to show that the spider was just fine; all of these small things that seemed huge at the time and negligible after a few years were really the center of Alfred's childhood, and he would never get that back. Ever.

Finally, after weeks of shutting down in denial, it finally hit Alfred that his dad was gone, and the walls broke down. The tears came quicker than the sobs, but soon after the drops had turned into small streams, and his voice rose with every choked breath he let out. Alfred pressed his face into the pillow, not caring that it was slightly disgusting how damp the fabric already was.

He couldn't tell how long he'd been crying for. Maybe it had been an hour, maybe it was already early morning. All he knew was that he couldn't take this anymore. Not long after his breakdown began, Hero had flopped down in front of Alfred, pressed up heavily against his chest. Since then Alfred had been hugging the dog tightly, trying to find comfort in the soft clumps of fur under his fingers. He loved his dog so much, but it pained him to accept that right now, it wasn't enough. There were two people in the house he could go to right now, but he felt almost shameful thinking about even considering it, almost like he didn't have the right to do so after spending so long avoiding them and not being there when they wanted to be with him. They wouldn't say anything tonight, maybe, but it the morning, maybe even in a few days, they'd bring it up and he'd regret ever seeking comfort in them. Well, at least that's what he knew would happen if he went to his mother. But Matthew, just maybe, would understand just a little more.

Alfred removed his trapped arm from under Hero, and taking a few deep breaths, he got out of bed again and left his room, going down to the other end of the carpeted hallway where his brother's room was. He opened the door, his chest hurting with the prolonged struggle to not let out a noise of his unhappiness, lest he wake up his mother who had recently taken to sleeping on the couch (she said it helped her back, but some mornings he'd wake before her and find the coffee table with his father's ashes pulled up against the side of the couch. He never said anything to her about it).

He looked around the room for a moment. Matthew kept a tidy room for a teenager, so clean that it would be easy to assume he only used it for sleeping. It was his desk that gave it away, though. He had said that he found the old thing at a yard sale for fewer than fifty dollars, which was a little hard to believe if one took the time to appreciate the detail in the wood, but it was dry and rough and had an odd smell to it, and a suspicious black stain marked one of the back legs. Matthew loved it, though, all because of the work area and the shelves that he'd filled up with so many old textbooks, magazines, hockey trophies, school award certificates, pictures, and mugs full of his ever-growing collection of dead pens and markers. On top of the desk were scattered papers, some still relevant, like half-finished doodles or crossword puzzles cut out from the newspaper, others were homework assignments from months ago that he insisted on keeping for review over the summer. Alfred had to stop for a moment and just look at his brother, who had fallen asleep in the chair and leaned over the desk, calculator out of its cover and a pencil still loosely gripped in his right hand, lamp still shining a yellow light over his blonde hair and pale skin. It wasn't enough to light the room properly now that it was so dark outside, giving the notion than Matthew had been asleep like that for a while now. He'd probably been out since the outside light coming through the window was enough to see even without the help of the desk lamp. It was a sight that Alfred took comfort in, knowing that at least his brother was there and the same, but it brought on a fresh wave of tears that Alfred didn't even try to hold back. It didn't matter now, anyway.

Quietly he moved to the desk and turned out the light for Matthew. It may have been the noise or the sudden change in light, but after Alfred flipped the switch, Matthew began to stir.

"Sorry," Alfred whispered. His eyes were already adjusted to the dark, so he could see Matthew jump a little at the sudden voice.

"Huh? Oh, uh, no it's okay," his brother's voice was usually quiet anyway, but with the hint of exhaustion and confusion, Alfred had to strain to hear it, even in the silence. After a small pause between them, Matthew asked why Alfred was in his room so late, the confusion obvious.

"I...," what was he supposed to say? "I just - just couldn't be alone, didn't want to be alone." Alfred strained to keep his voice even, but it still wavered and cracked with emotion. Matthew picked up on the struggle immediately and turned his head to Alfred, brow scrunched with worry.

"Alfred, what's wrong?"

Alfred didn't give a reply, simply grabbed a handful of Matthew's loose red hoodie and rested his head on his brother's shoulder, having to kneel down behind the chair to make the height difference less awkward. He had to say something, but in the dark with only the sound of his sniffling, shaky exhales, and the rustling of clothes as Matthew turned completely around to face him, Alfred couldn't find the words to explain this situation. After Matthew asked gently a few more times, he decided to speak.

"It just hit me."

"What? Alfred come on, what's wrong?"

"I just realized that dad's gone."

There was a pause before Matthew exhaled, "Oh," and scooted off the side of the chair, sliding onto the floor next to Alfred so he could wrap his arms around him. Alfred didn't know what to do at first, hugs were so foreign to him, and he'd never enjoyed them up until now, but after a few moments of preparing to wiggle out of his brother's embrace to save face, he changed his mind at the last moment and went limp, pushing his weight into Matthew's chest. At some point, his hands found refuge bunched up in the fabric on Matthew's back.

For a few minutes, Alfred nearly lost himself in the warmth in front of him, and it brought a feeling of being centered, like the only point in time he could think about was whatever moment they were in, anything outside of that became a blur. It didn't take long for Alfred to calm down, and as his mind cleared a little, he became aware of the soft sniffs that Matthew let out every once and a while, too. He finally felt the full weight of exhaustion begin to drag him down.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" he asked, breaking up the air between them. He felt Matthew stiffen a little, probably not expecting him to speak so suddenly. But after hearing his request, his brother relaxed again, and mumbled a small, "Of course," into Alfred's shoulder.

Sharing a bed was something they hadn't done since at least five years ago, but it felt comfortable, natural, maybe because they were both too tired to care much. They lay back to back, Alfred noting that Matthew's weight and heat were not so different from Hero's. And with that comfort in mind, Alfred was able to fall asleep quickly. Despite waking up about an hour later and returning to his own room to sleep, Alfred couldn't remember sleeping as well as he did that night.

* * *

A/N: I promise I won't put more than one author's note on any of the other chapters unless it is to restate a major warning (there will be a few, but later on).

I'd like to mention that much of this is based of of my own personal experiences, so it's very hard for me to know what other people will and won't understand the way I'd like them, too. I've tried running the content by a few trust worthy friends, but even so, I'm not sure. So if any of you are every confused by something you read, just message me/note it in a review and I'll either explain it, or go back and revise the chapter so it is clearer.

For right now updates may be sporadic, and the second chapter definitely won't be up for a few weeks since I've got a final for my summer class this Friday and then a two week vacation without internet, so at the earliest the next update will be in just over two weeks from now. Sorry! Once school starts again, though, I'll find a much more stable schedule.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Alfred decided a long time ago that overcast days were the most enjoyable for him. It was impossible to place a single reason to it, though he assumed it had at least a little to do with the colors. They were never just shades of grey, but every color at once, just drastically muted and mixed. The city took on the mood of the sky, and for at least a little while, Alfred felt like he wasn't out of place, like his own mixed and muted emotions weren't a stark contrast to the energy and general hyperactivity that hummed through the atmosphere.

Yes, overcast days were a gift. They were also still disorienting to wake up to.

Alfred lay in bed, shifting and stretching each of his limbs until his body felt somewhat awake enough to even think about rolling over to check the clock. He reached toward his bed stand and pushed down the top of his pillow to see the digital numbers. It was only 12:30, still early for Alfred's standards. With that small chore done (and it really was a chore nowadays), Alfred gracelessly slumped his back against the mattress again and nuzzled his head into the pillows. He didn't know if he wanted to do anything right now.

It was an apprehension rooted in two seemingly opposite causes: on one hand, he was worried he'd run into Matthew, who would take one look at him and recall the events of last night and write him off as hopeless, vulnerable, and maybe just plain weak. But on the other, he was already becoming anxious with the worry that the seconds were ticking by too fast, and soon seconds would turn to minutes, to hours, and another wasted day would have passed him by. Though, sometimes it felt like he was running out of time no matter what he spent it with, but what was waiting for him at the end, he didn't know, so it was impossible to tell what he was supposed to be doing.

He needed to do _something_.

Finally, after lying there indecisively for another half-hour, Alfred's neck and back began to cramp. He spent a few minutes trying to shove the stupid fears out of his head so he could move on with the day, and he sat up on the edge of the bed and with a groan, managing to pull himself out of the bedroom for another day. Hero was curled up in front of the door, still asleep, but when Alfred opened the door a crack to nudge the dog a few times, he lifted his head to look at Alfred before jumping up to get out of the way.

Once Hero was let out, he scampered down the hallway, probably alerting anyone in the house that Alfred was up. However, upon entering the kitchen he was greeted with the sight of Matthew at the kitchen table, not watching the entrance in anticipation for Alfred's arrival, but skimming over pages in that day's newspaper. Seeing his brother's face brought up the images of falling apart in front of him the night before, and some very familiar but still unwanted feelings welled in his stomach.

Anxiety constricted his chest when he wondered what Matthew thought of him now. He must think he was weak, a mess, maybe girly for crying too easily and getting emotionally and so physically clingy like he did. Last night, Alfred knew he'd fucked up. He was doing so well, finally getting the hang of holding it inside - he really felt like he was getting strong enough to not succumb to those emotions, but he was wrong apparently. It just didn't make sense, though, that he could fall apart when he'd been doing nothing but building up a stronger foundation. He must have done something wrong, something that weakened the walls. And Matthew had seen it all, saw those walls come crashing down, and _had_ to be disappointed in how bad Alfred was at building them up. How embarrassing. Interacting with his brother didn't seem like such a good idea right now.

Alfred was prepared to quickly turn around and hurry back to the safety of his room, but he wasn't paying attention to what was directly around him. Turning too fast and misjudging his angle, Alfred promptly ran his side into the couch, letting out a soft curse directed at the unexpected obstacle. It was too late to leave now; Matthew had turned around at the noise and was looking at Alfred quizzically, obviously not impressed, but amused at his brother's slip-up.

"Forget where the furniture is?" Matthew asked, his playful tone making Alfred feel more embarrassed than he already was.

"Uh, yeah, apparently," Alfred huffed, mentally scolding himself for his clumsiness and standing awkwardly with his hand wrapped around the side of his abused abdomen. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another until Matthew spoke up again.

"You don't usually get up this early. Did you want something?"

"Not really, no," Alfred said strained. It could have been a lie, but Alfred couldn't think of a single thing he wanted right then.

"Want me to make you some food?"

"No, you don't have to do that."

"Are you sure? I really wouldn't mind. I'm feeling kind of hungry now anyway, so I could just make some for both of us." Matthew had set the paper down and gotten up, wondering toward the kitchen cabinets while talking to Alfred.

"No, I'm not hungry."

Matthew stopped with the cabinet door halfway open and looked back at his brother, expression hard to read, but Alfred could tell he was worried.

"Alfred… I don't want to get on your case about this or anything, but you've been saying that for a few weeks. It's not really normal for you."

Not normal was putting it lightly, in all honesty. Matthew didn't want to make a big deal out of it and make Alfred so uncomfortable that he'd stop talking and go into hiding again. He wasn't going to say it out loud, but he had thought what happened last night meant progress. It felt like he hadn't seen Alfred in so long, he'd hate to mess it up now by throwing big questions on his brother so soon. But this was serious. Though he couldn't see much with Alfred's thick sweatshirt and pajama pants, he got the feeling that there was a lot more empty space under the clothing than there used to be.

His concern wasn't eased when Alfred simply shrugged and became quiet again. Getting the feeling that he was pushing it, Matthew quickly left the subject alone. "Never mind, I can wait until you get hungry. Though... do you think that might be a while?"

Alfred nodded, "Yeah, probably."

"Okay. How about we do something today then? Get out of the house?"

Out of the house. The idea wouldn't scare Alfred so much had he still been confident that he could keep it together. But now, well… who knew what would happen if he exposed himself like that. It could be disastrous. Alfred shook his head and muttered something that could have been a no, but wasn't clear enough for Matthew to tell. Though he still got the message, loud and clear.

"I think we should. What if I invited Arthur? He could tag along, make it a sort-of-date for you guys."

"Arthur?" Alfred's attention was held more at the mention of his boyfriend, who'd definitely been neglected for a little too long at this point. Alfred felt guilty, he really did. Arthur didn't deserve to be ignored like this, but Alfred just had no interest in seeing him lately. He knew he had to start paying attention to the other soon, otherwise he'd either A) get mad and leave, or B) bored and leave. Alfred didn't know what would hurt more. He tried not to think about it much, otherwise the guilt would intensify when he realized that it was because of that same selfish reason he didn't want Arthur to leave; he didn't want to feel that pain and risk crumbling again. So for the sole purpose of protecting himself from that weakness, Arthur had to stay.

Reluctantly, Alfred nodded after a few moments of contemplation. "Okay... yeah, okay we can do that."

"Really?" Matthew's face lit up. "Great, alright you call Arthur, and I'll see what the soonest movie showing is and get tickets online or something," his brother said excitedly as he moved about the kitchen, throwing the newspaper in the recycling basket before leaving to his own bedroom to order some tickets.

Alfred returned to his own room to grab his cellphone, still lost somewhere under the covers from where he'd probably kicked it after falling asleep again in his own bed that morning.

He really didn't want to call Arthur, Alfred just knew he was going to sound stupid asking Arthur out after weeks of no attempt to contact the other at all. But Matthew was expecting him to and there just wasn't a way out of it now, so grimacing, he found his phone and opened it, closing it just as quickly to avoid looking at the texts on the screen before cautiously opening it once again and typing in Arthur's number. He waited in trepidation as the phone rung for the other to pick up.

Finally, Arthur's familiar, yet at the same time foreign voice flooded the earpiece with a surprised, "Alfred?"

Alfred tried to breathe correctly. "Yeah, hey Arthur."

"Wow, I-I didn't expect you to call right now. I mean it's really been a while."

He didn't need reminding. Alfred tried to move on from that topic quickly. "Sorry about that... um, Matthew wanted me to ask you if you'd want to come out with us today. We're seeing a movie, and, well, yeah."

"Oh. Yeah, alright, I can do that," Arthur's voice sounded a little dejected for some reason. Alfred wanted to ask what was wrong but couldn't think of how to before Arthur started talking again, "What time?"

"I don't know, text my brother. He's the one finding the movie."

"You didn't plan this?"

"No," Alfred felt a little flustered at that, it's not like it was his idea, "Mattie just randomly told me we should get out and see a movie like five minutes ago. I don't why, he just thought it was a good idea." He internally winced at that. It came out just slightly more defensive than he'd meant. "I don't know, I guess he does that sometimes," /actually he really doesn't/ "Anyway, so you can come?"

"I don't have anything else to do, so time isn't a problem. I'll just ask Matthew and get details from him."

"Okay. Sorry I'm not more helpful." There was a pause on the other end after that.

Arthur's tone was caring. "No... It's okay Alfred, it's not a problem... I'll see you there then, I suppose?"

Alfred inwardly sighed in relief that the conversation was finally over. "Yeah, I'll see you then. Bye."

"Bye, love you."

"Y-yeah, love you, too... Bye," Alfred stumbled and hung up in a hurry. The words felt weird in his mouth, like he wasn't supposed to be saying them. It _had_ been a long time since he talked to Arthur.

He slipped on a slightly cleaner pair of sweats and a t-shirt that must have been washed wrong because it was definitely not that loose on him when he first bought it. After stuffing his phone into one of the deep pockets in his pants, he found his tennis shoes and gave a half-assed attempt to put them on gracefully before giving up and forcefully shoving them onto his feet, scraping his fingers in the process, then left his room to find Matthew, who was in the kitchen again printing out what Alfred assumed were the movie tickets. He stood silently by the entrance, not making a move to help his brother as he remembered at the last minute to leave food out for Hero.

Once finished and he had gathered the tickets again, Matthew sent a quick text to Arthur and turned to look at Alfred expectantly. "You ready?"

"Yup. By the way, where's mom?"

Matthew looked at Alfred curiously, "She told us at dinner she was going to the school to meet with the principle about next year, remember?" No, Alfred definitely did not remember, but it was better if Matthew didn't know that. They left the house in Alfred's car, though he didn't drive. That was another thing he wouldn't admit - he barely remembered how to get anywhere.

Alfred was beginning to think the gap between his last days as part of any kind of community and now was bigger than originally thought.

[line break]

The theater really wasn't as far away as Alfred remembered (and hoped it would be). In less than twenty minutes they were already finding a place to park in the crowded parking lot, and with that taken care of, Alfred was out of time to avoid seeing Arthur. Walking towards the theater doors, he could already see the mop of blonde hair and thick eyebrows pulls together in Arthur's signature resting bitch-face. Alfred almost had to laugh at how much the guy looked like the classic moody teenager. That was only partially true for Arthur.

Yes, he could have a bit of a temper sometimes and was almost always acting like he had a stick up his ass, but he was a gentleman through and through, and polite to a fault. Well, he tried his best to be, at least. There were a few certain people that Arthur couldn't care less about being polite to, and once that front was dropped, he could pick a fight like no one Alfred had ever seen before. He'd learned quite a few colorful and exotic insults from the other over the months they'd been together, most of them aimed at one boy in particular, Francis Bonnefoy.

It was almost comical to watch those two bicker because of the irony. Arthur Kirkland's family had moved to the states from Britain when Arthur was in sixth grade, and Francis was of French decent, with parents who still dominantly spoke in French at home. Arthur and Francis' near-rivalry was old news, but still no one really knew what their relationship was, considering that while their conversations were a never-ending loop of insults and jabs and petty bickering, they made a pair and have been seen working together quite well on more than one occasion. Alfred still considered Francis a friend and honestly enjoyed watching him and his boyfriend fight - it was better than cable TV.

Alfred wondered briefly if they'd kept in touch this summer during his own absence. He didn't have much time to think about it before they caught Arthur's eyes and he immediately perked up, bitch-face melting into a smile as he waved them over. Matthew waved back, the two of them exchanging quick greetings, and Alfred tried to smile back just as brightly, but probably failed. When they reached him, Alfred considered going in for a hug; it seemed like something he should do, but he couldn't tell if Arthur would want him to do something like that after actively avoiding everyone - Arthur included - for almost a month. At the last minute he decided to do it anyway, and was able to let out a breath when Arthur eagerly returned the embrace, smiling.

Alfred didn't see Arthur's smile falter as his arms pressed into Alfred's side, didn't see how Arthur shot Matthew a confused and worried glance before fixing the smile on his face again before pulling away to lead the group inside.

"Al, you wanna buy the snacks for everyone while Arthur and I find the seats?" Matthew asked once they were stopped in the back of the line for refreshments.

Alfred nodded, "Um, sure?" They didn't usually split up like that, but he could roll with it. Matthew gave Alfred one of the tickets, shot him a quick thanks and the theater number so Alfred could find them once he had everything, then led Arthur away, leaving Alfred alone in line to buy everything.

[line break]

Once out of his brother's sight, Matthew lowered his voice to make sure no one could hear them and asked, "So, I'm not the only one who noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Arthur asked in return, matching Matthew's extra hushed tone.

"Al. He's... I don't know what's going on. I don't think he's purposefully not eating or anything, he just isn't. I thought I was just imagining it because I barely see him anymore, figured I was just never there when he ate, but this morning I noticed that he really does look a lot thinner than before any of all this bad stuff started happening."

Arthur's expression changed from confused to serious. When he spoke, he sounded regretful. "Yes, I definitely noticed that, too. In all the time we've been together he's never felt like that when I held him, not even remotely. Do you know how long this has been going on? I feel like he started losing weight before summer, I just never noticed it then with all his absence from school and such. He was definitely acting different at the funeral, that's for sure."

"I have no idea," Matthew sighed as they opened the door to Theater 9, darkness hiding their faces. "Like I said, I thought I was imagining it up until today."

They found an empty row near the back and sat in silence for a while, each processing this new information. It was Arthur who spoke again. "And you're sure it isn't on purpose? I mean, I've never heard of it happening to men, but I don't see why it couldn't. He was always self-conscious about his size - which was ridiculous, honestly - he was fine, but I know that after something bad happens like what happened to your family, people can, well, they can get sucked into some nasty mind-sets."

Matthew considered it for a while. "I don't know, honestly. There's just no way I can tell, it's just - He's always in his room, always. Last night was the first time in weeks I've really seen Al, and I live with him. It's just so different, not like him at all. If last night was anything to go by... I think he's just sad."

Arthur began to pick at the lint on his pants, a nervous habit. "What happened last night? You mentioned it twice now."

"Oh, well, I don't know if it's my place to say anything about that, it was pretty personal," Matthew shifted in his seat to look at Arthur, "I won't go into detail for Al's sake, but I think it just finally got to him. I think he finally understood what happened."

Arthur's expression softened and he looked down, shaking his head. "Oh, Alfred. God, I'm so sorry, Matt. You two don't deserve any of this. How are _you_ holding up?"

"Me? Well I'm not any less upset by what happened to dad than Alfred is, but I think I'm handling it a little better. I've been able to talk to our mom a lot more than he's willing to. What can you do, though? I just don't know how to help him without pushing him too hard," Matthew shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Alfred coming up the steps with his arms full of drinks, popcorn, and boxes of candy. The conversation was over, and Matthew and Arthur silently agreed to drop the subject and pretend that their talk never happened, at least around Alfred.

The movie started, and Arthur was sure it must have been a good one by the way Matthew and Alfred had their eyes pinned to the screen the whole time, but all he could do was watch if Alfred ate his snacks. Arthur was momentarily pleased to see him drink the whole bottle of Coke, but was quickly disappointed when the other didn't touch anything else after that. After the movie, Arthur asked Alfred to stay behind for a moment while Matthew left to pull the car around.

"Yeah, what's up?" Alfred asked. He looked nervous.

Arthur decided not to bring up what he and Matthew had talked about, not yet. "How are you doing?" he asked instead. He already knew what the answer would be.

"I'm good," Alfred lied.

"Hm," Arthur didn't sound convinced, but Alfred was grateful he didn't push. "I haven't seen you in a while. Haven't heard much from you either."

Alfred scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Just never got around to it, I guess. I'll try to call more often from now on, okay"

"You better, I'm starting to get lonely," Arthur warned teasingly, pushing Alfred's shoulder playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood. He was pleased to see his joking got a small cracked smile out of Alfred. "Now get out of here," he said as he pushed Alfred along with him out the doors to where Matthew had pulled the car up next to the curb. "You're ride's here."

Alfred genuinely smiled then, and waved goodbye to Arthur as he got in the car, thanking him for seeing the movie with them. As they drove off, Arthur tried not to be irritated at not getting something more than that, like a kiss. He reminded himself that if Alfred wanted to kiss him right then, he would have.

[line break]

Back at his own home, Arthur wasted no time in picking up the phone to call Francis. What he learned today about Alfred was important, and he wasn't naive, he knew that whatever was going on could become so much worse. It was best if as many of their friends were aware of the situation as possible. Alfred needed the help.

When Francis picked up, he sounded amused. "_Que_, did you want to hear an insult so badly you had to call me?"

"Oh, shut up, this is important," he started, not in the mood for their usual banter.

"Oh? Must be, if you're calling me about it," Francis said, slightly more seriously this time. But just slightly.

"I don't feel like calling every person to tell them, so I'm just going to tell you and trust you to pass the important details on to the right people."

"I'm listening?"

"It's Alfred," Arthur sighed into the phone, ruffling his blond hair in frustration.

There was a pause and the sound of shuffling on the other end. "Alfred? You spoke to him?"

"Saw him, actually. But everything I'm about to tell you is mostly from his brother. Everything else is what I saw for myself."

"You saw him? When? I didn't think anyone had seen him since the funeral."

"They didn't. Apparently I'm the first person outside of their family to have seen him since. Though, Matthew told me that even he and their mother haven't seen much of him."

"What's going on, then? Is he okay?"

Arthur picked at his pants again. "I don't know, it doesn't seem like it. He's...just not himself, and he's lost a lot of weight. I felt it, Matthew saw it. Matthew said he hasn't really been eating or talking to anyone for weeks now. Said he's just sad but...I guess Al had some kind of breakdown last night? I didn't get any details so it's hard to say how bad it was, but it sounded pretty big to me. Judging by the way Matthew talked about it."

"Is he - You don't think he's doing it on purpose, do you?"

"Can't tell. It's just so unlike him, like he was a completely different person when I saw him today. Actually, it was like he wasn't even there." Arthur gave up worrying at the non-existent lint and rubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to sooth the headache he felt coming.

"No, that doesn't sound like him at all."

"Exactly," Arthur sighed. "I'm just worried, Francis. I was going to talk to him afterwards, but from the way Matthew was speaking, it sounded like it wouldn't do any good to do that. Alfred just isn't talking to anyone."

"_Merde_..."

"I don't know how to help. I really want to, and I'm going to try talking to him about it soon, but I think I'm going to need you and all our other friends to help."

"Of course, _ami_, this is important."

"Thanks, Francis."

"Thank you for telling me," Francis said sincerely.

They hung up after that, and Arthur was left to his own thoughts. What was he going to do? What the hell could he do?

Thank god Francis was there to help.

* * *

OKAY so this took astronomically longer to get out and revised than expected. I can blame the first two weeks on the fact that I was out of the country, but after that I'm actually not sure what happened. I'm taking this as a sign that my ability to predict my updating speed is probably lacking, so I'm just going to go ahead and say to be safe that updates will most likely be very sporadic, especially with school starting this week. They may not be sporadic and all and this could have just been a strange fluke, but I'm not going to take my chances and say that updates will be more consistent.

With that said, I'm pretty sure that this chapter is the last chapter focusing on establishing things and that the chapter 3 will be the start of actual action.

I hope you all forgive me for the ridiculous wait and haven't given up on me already. I can't express how happy and grateful I am to see old readers of O&B reading this, too. And I guess it's needless to say, but I'm going to say it anyway: Comments are my fuel, my vice, and are second to nothing in terms of motivators to write this faster. I'll be writing and finishing this anyway just for myself, but I figure that you guys probably don't want to spend the next few years of your life getting small updates every few months from this, so to speed up the process, it's be super awesome if you left a little note to let me know what you think.

Thank you :)


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